


Family and Tribe

by Clockwork



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Gen, Spoilers, post apoc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork/pseuds/Clockwork
Summary: SPOILERS POST APOCALYPSE SPOILERSMisty thinking about all that's happened, and fearing what is to come.





	Family and Tribe

Everything had changed.

Not that she couldn’t say that about so much in her life. Life changed when her parents pulled her out of school. Life changed when she was tied to a post, and the bramble and branches beneath her were lit on fire and an entire congregation, child and all, watched her burn.

Life changed when she felt that calling of someone else raising the dead and stumbled on Kyle’s resurrection. 

After that it was a whirlwind of everything changing. The world spirally in chaos and love and family and tribe. And then the carpet had been pull out from under her and all that was left was Hell.

No, not just Hell. Pain. The torture was physical, but she wasn’t the one that paid with that pain. It was that inside. Her heart feeling ripped apart, the pain as her vocal chords tore with every scream. 

Even now, dancing in sunlight with the White Witch, still feeling Cordelia’s hand on her cheek, the slight form of Cordelia held against her, there was so much more Misty could feel. 

Rough hands on her. The cold steel against her palm. The scent of formaldehyde still clung to her nasal passages. Every time she turned around, she was positive there would be someone standing there. Someone not of the coven, not those that they knew, but whose face was etched into her mind’s eye. One of the children. A teacher that had mocked and ridiculed her and murdered a poor frog merely to torture a child. 

Or worse. Worrying that when she turned she would see that dark suit and golden angel’s hair, and see Michael standing there behind her. Michael was who dead, killed before he could ascend as Alpha, as the antichrist. The others celebrated what became of Michael, laughing at Madison’s vehicular manslaughter. 

She thought of how many times she had risen from the dead, and how many lives Michael might have left.

But she smiled and celebrated. She hugged Cordelia until her arms hurt, and sang with Stevie until she couldn’t caught her breath. She got to know Mallorie, finding her both sweet and frightening, seeing something there that felt deeper than the girl she knew, and more expansive than it felt when she looked at others. They let Nan go and Misty left an offering in the gardens for her, not that she felt she was gone, but to tell her she was glad for her. Misty had found her tribe in the coven house, but if Nan hadn’t, then she’s glad the girl found where her family truly was. She left cuttings for Marie at the crypt the city had long ago constructed, and she thanked her as many did.

Misty wenc on with her life, settling in as a witch at the coven house. Never again would she attempt the seven wonders, and she was content to live her life in the gardens, and learning from Cordelia while she and Mallorie challenged one another and learned. Eventually Madison would be back, and Miss Robichaux’s was full of bright young girls eager to find out what it truly means to be a witch. 

And if Misty stands there on the porch late in the witching hour on many a night, a shawl clutched tightly around her frame, and the warning sounds of a lonely saxophone wailing in the distance as if to tell her the past wasn’t gone, not by a long shot, then so be it. This was her life, her tribe, and her family, and she would be damned if she let anyone harm them again. Not ghost, nor queen, nor demon, nor antichrist. Not ever. Not again. Not unless they went through her to do it.


End file.
